“What do you think of dreams now, Jack?  Something in ’em, eh?”

The foreman shared in the general feeling of awe; but he had given his opinion that the dream was nonsense, and stood by it.  “It’s strange,” said he.  “It’s what the newspapers call a ‘strordinary quincidence,’ that the young lady should ‘a’ dreamed out this murder so plain.  I do’ ‘no’ much about the science o’ dreams, but I think this one might be explained somethin’ in this way:  The young lady heerd the old man and Mr. Wilkeson here talkin’ strong, when she come home that night.  She went to sleep with their conversation ringin’ in her ears.  Part on it she heerd in her dreams, and the rest she ’magined.  She says she was afraid there would be trouble between ’em when she went to bed.  The fight, and the murder, and all that, which she says she saw in a dream, or vision like, might have grown out o’ that naterally enough.  That’s my notion of it, off hand.  I’ve often gone to bed, myself, thinkin’ of somethin’ horrible that was goin’ to happen, and dreamt that it did happen.”

[Illustration:  THE INQUEST. MARCUS SPRINGS TO HIS FEET.]

This was precisely the theory upon which Fayette Overtop intended to explain the dream to the jury when the proper time arrived.  He was glad that the foreman had done it instead; for he knew the tenacity with which a man, having given an opinion, defends it.  To have so potent an advocate of his client’s innocence on the jury, was a strong point.

“Very good, old boy,” said the coroner; “but, if the prisoner didn’t commit the murder, who did?”

This question, so manifestly unjust, and betraying the coroner’s intention to sacrifice Marcus to a theory, roused that unfortunate man to consciousness, and he sprang to his feet.  But the wiser Overtop placed his hands upon his friend’s shoulder, whispered in his ear, and forced him reluctantly into his seat.  Overtop knew that the argumentative foreman could best dispose of the coroner.

The foreman replied to the coroner’s question: 

“As to who did the murder, that’s what we’re here to find out.  But, for one, I sha’n’t bring in no man guilty till it’s proved onto him.”

The foreman’s face was a dull one, but it became suddenly luminous with an idea: 

“You say, miss, that you was waked by a noise as of somethin’ heavy fallin’ on the floor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You s’pose—­as we all s’pose—­that it was your father’s body that fell, when he received his death blow?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You say you heerd no one a-goin’ out o’ the room?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s not strange; for the murd’rer could ‘a’ slipped off his boots or shoes, and walked out puffickly quiet.  I noticed, this mornin’, and the other members of the jury can see for themselves, that the boards of the floor don’t creak when you walk on ’em, nor the entry door neither when you open it.  Didn’t you never observe that succumstance?”